


Horse Thieves

by KrakenMo (goldenKnife)



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Gen, Humor, Minor Violence, Talking Animals, Talking horses, adding the humor tag because that seems to be the universal reaction, magic horses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:24:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2111529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenKnife/pseuds/KrakenMo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you were an intelligent, magical horse in need of a midwife, who would you pick?<br/>The one surgeon in the warcamps who can hear you, of course.<br/>Even if you need to Steal him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Horse Thieves

**Author's Note:**

> In which a childhood of reading about magical talking horses meets the Stormlight Archive and madness ensues.  
> Not canon compliant, not real-matically feasible, not terribly realistic. Thanks to Isolde for the beta read

"A moment of your time, Brightlord?"

Adolin finished dismissing the ardent and turned to the two new bridgemen guards just puffing to a halt before him. "What do you need, Drehy? and..." he trailed off. The thin, one-armed Herdazian wore the Bridge Four uniform and seemed passingly familiar. Perhaps one of Bridgeboy's logistics officers, he thought, but Adolin had never caught the man's name.

"Lopen, your brightship." the man supplied, saluting in the proper military fashion, rather than the strange salute the bridgemen often used. "We need to report a theft."

Adolin frowned. "Thefts should be reported to one of commander Mirik's clerks."

"Begging your pardon, highness, but you and your father's giant horses were involved, so we thought we should tell you directly." Drehy explained.

"Our Ryshadium, stolen? Ha!" Adolin shook his head. "Can't be done. If they went off with someone unfamiliar is was only because they wanted to."

"Of course, Brightlord, but will they bring our captain back when they're done with him?"

* * *

Kaladin had grown accustomed to the sensation of being watched over the last few weeks; for all that lighteyes tended to overlook him the darkeyes in camp did not. The old stories of surviving the highstorm and dancing between parshendi arrows had combined with more recent tales of holding the bridgehead himself and saving the King from the Assassin in White, forming a semi-mythical image of him in the eyes of many common soldiers. He could be their champion if they needed him to be, and in the wake of the Battle of the Tower the Kholin army badly needed the morale boost, but he wasn't comfortable with it -- few things in his new life were comfortable yet.

The eyes on him now were not human or parshmen. Seven enormous horses had gathered at the edge of the practice grounds where he, Teft, and Drehy demonstrated attack patterns for bridge fourteen. The pack of horses were led by Dalinar's blocky black stallion, but Kaladin also recognized Adolin's mount eyeing him. He finished his explanation and indicated for Teft to take over, breaking the men into teams to practice before approaching the animals, cautious not to spook or startle them.

Dalinar's steed, Kaladin thought his name was Gallant, snorted as he approached. The other horses took this as a signal and moved to enfold Kaladin into their midst. He didn't protest, but sucked in a bit of stormlight in case he needed to dodge away; he had no desire to test himself against the enormous bulk of the creatures. Gallant stepped forward, turning his head to regard Kaladin with one bottomless eye. The Horse breathed in some of the stormlight vapor rising from Kaladin's face, fixing him with an expectant look. "You want me to give you stormlight?" he guessed, and bristled when the horse nodded as if to a slow student. He reached out and infused Gallant's muzzle, careful to only move the light, not to make the horse sticky or send it falling away from the earth. He did not want to explain to Dalinar Kholin that he'd sent his precious war horse floating off into the sky because it had insulted him.

_Nor would I like to be mistaken for a Windrunner's steed, Knight._ a voice spoke into his mind.

Kaladin looked from the hand still on Gallant's nose to the Ryshadium's amused eyes. "You can talk." he whispered, less startled than he thought he should be. He wondered what Syl would make of this, whenever she returned. She would love the idea of talking horses. Where had she flitted off to this time? "Why am I not surprised you can talk?" he asked.

_You speak even to normal horses as beings of independent mind and will, so this does not surprise you as it would some._ Gallant chuckled in his mind, _For one who has seen the Storm himself speak, a talking horse is easy to believe._

Before he could formulate a retort, another equine head thrust itself into Kaladin's view, this one white and lean, familiar from many encounters during his riding lessons. Adolin's mount had an expression easily translated: _Me too!_ Kaladin complied with the silent demand, lifting his other hand to touch and send a flow of stormlight into the animal.

_Bridgeboy Surgeon-binder!_ another voice declared in his mind, this one lighter and more musical than Gallant. _Greetings! I am Sureblood._

"And I am sure that is the worst pun I've ever been subjected to." he replied. "Is that why Adolin likes Shallan so much? She reminds him of his wise-cracking horse?"

_Alas, my Adolin lacks the power that lets you hear us,_ Sureblood said, unperturbed. _Are you volunteering to translate? I have many years of observations I would love to share with him._

"I'm going to decline that generous invitation." Kaladin said. "The princeling already thinks I'm crazy." He looked back toward Gallant, who exuded the same indulgent and satisfied air Dalinar sometimes displayed. Usually as he arranged the sacrifice of Kaladin's rapidly diminishing free time to yet another set of vital lessons or planning meetings. Kaladin would walk into Damnation before letting himself disappoint the man, but some days he felt like a juggler with too few hands to keep all the balls spinning. "What did you need from me?"

_The surgeon and the surgebinder._ Gallant said. _Have you seen the place with the shrouded sun?_

"Yes. But-"

_Good. The one you must heal is far, we must travel with the swiftness of your Light can grant us. We will explain as we go._

"I'll need my healing kit, and more lit spheres." he protested, though he knew that he'd already lost this argument. If the magical talking horses wanted to put off explanations until they were out of the war camps, so be it. At least one had been promised.

_It has already been taken care of,_ Sureblood assured him, _See?_

* * *

"So you packed a traveling bag for them?" Dalinar asked, still trying to make sense of the horneater lieutenant's rambling narration.

"Aye. The brown one kept shaking his saddle bag at me and snorting at the wraps I'd made up for the men running messages and at poor Bisig's bandages. When Pitt ran up talking about horses invading the practice yard and cornering Captain Kaladin I guessed what he wanted. So I made Bisig wrap up some chouta while I got the captain's big healing kit he pretends he doesn't have out of his room. The big brown horse took them and bowed, as polite as a lady. We followed him, to see what he would do. He took them to the Captain, who looked like he'd been bullied onto the big black horse." 

Rock laughed. "Such a scowl he had, like time I suggested he should find a nice lady to do writing and smiling for him. So! Our lonely captain said we should tell you and Prince Adolin that he apologized for the inconvenience and that they would be back before tomorrow's highstorm. The white horse he snorted and pranced around, and Captain glared and said 'well before' and then they were running away with him. The others all followed the black one and no one was getting in his way."

* * *

Syl loved Sureblood, spinning giddy circles around his head and whooping encouragement as they dodged between two market tents. Kaladin would have been horrified by this discovery if he hadn't been preoccupied with staying on the maniac horse's back. _You are both insane!_ he thought as loudly as he could, only to receive paired laughter in response.

He'd made the transfer to the leaner stallion at Gallant's insistence before this phase of the Ryshadiums' plan started. They'd exited Dalinar's warcamp without incident, picking up another five of the monster horses at the crater's rim before heading for the outer market. Apparently Gallant and the others respected their human's politics enough that the mounts partnered to men opposed to Dalinar's policies did not feel comfortable invading his camp to help kidnap him, but they would cooperate in The Distraction. 

Kaladin could tell the idea for The Distraction was Sureblood's, for he'd pranced and tossed his mane as he explained it. A dozen massive horses invading the outer market at speed, dodging between stalls and dancing past each other in a coordinated dance of near misses and careful non-destruction sent merchants and strollers scrambling for cover and left the desired welter of confusion in their wake.

_Pass to Starfall on the other side of this cart!_ Sureblood sent as he executed a spinning pirouette on his hind legs, hopping forward and behind one of the sturdy stormwagons on the outside lane of the market.

"I hate you." Kaladin replied without much heat as he kicked out of the stirrups and prepared to launch himself at the other white Ryshadium's saddle. They'd played this mad game of Pass the Parcel twice already, and the trickle of stormlight he allowed himself only took the edge off the sting of smashing his nose on Sureblood's neck on the last pass. He didn't much have time to think about it; breaths later Starfall appeared, headed in the opposite direction. He lashed himself upward for an instant as he caught the passing pommel and twisted in midair, pulling himself down and releasing the lashing slowly to spare his muscles.

_Nice catch!_ the cheerful mare told him as they raced down the line of storm wagons. _We're past the halfway point, one more pass and then you, Gallant and Sureblood disappear in the confusion. We'll keep raising a racket until you're well gone._

_I would say thank you, if I thought disappearing with Sureblood was actually a good idea._

_Gallant won't let you get lost. He knows the Old Stories._ They charged back into the populated lanes of the market, passing between two stalls and then weaving between the supports of a large tent selling sweet drinks and pastries. Patrons seated at the provided tables squawked and gawked as Starfall paused to snatch up an unattended sweet roll before completing the serpentine route through the pillars.

Kaladin clung with hands and knees to the saddle, but the stormlight infusion seemed to let him anticipate her movements and not be flung about like limp rag. _By the end of this misadventure I'm going to be a competent rider, or crippled for life._ He kept the thought to himself.

"Kaladin!" Syl called, streaking around his head as a ribbon of light. "I want one!"

* * *

"Uncle, have you heard the latest about your Captain of the Guard?" Elhokar asked as he reined his mount to a halt in front of the group gathered in the stable yard.

Dalinar sighed, turning away from stablemaster Jenet to face the king. "Captain Kaladin is also the head of the your own guard, your majesty."

"Of course he is- he makes me feel safe." the king said. "But you must admit his first loyalty is to you." 

_I wonder about that some days. I think his first loyalty will always be to the men who follow him, not his commander._ Dalinar nodded at the king's comment, though. It was close enough to the truth. "If you're here to tell me he was seen riding Gallant, I know about that already."

"Gallant? I'd heard he was riding Sureblood, or at least, a white Ryshadium." Elhokar said. "I'm told every Ryshadium in the camps invaded the outer market. Caused quite a confusion and a bit of a panic, but no one was actually hurt or anything broken. Our captain was reportedly seen clinging to Sureblood's saddle as they rampaged through the streets, but is now nowhere to be found."

"Sureblood too?" Adolin said, pressing his hand to his chest in mock outrage. "Where will this campaign of seduction end, Bridgeboy? Is no mount safe from your charms?" Adolin's reaction, after he'd gotten over the initial shock earlier, was to laugh. He and the bridgemen Lopen and Drehy had spun a series of conjectures to recast the entire situation as the result of Captain Kaladin's strange, stormy magnetism overcoming the species barrier, leading to his kidnapping at the infatuated hooves of half the camps' Ryshadium population.

Dalinar doubted it was that simple, if only because of the detail of the healing kit.

"Anyway, ten Ryshadium met at the outskirts of the market after their little riot, then dispersed. Neither of your's were among them." Elhokar told them. "If it were after the Weeping I'd almost think it was a Fool's Day Prank, but it's too early for that. What do you think is going on, Uncle?"

"I really have no idea, Elhokar. I have to trust in Gallant's judgment."

* * *

"We're going to _what?_ " Kaladin asked as he settled back into Gallant's saddle. Sureblood remained close, brushing against his knee as the two Ryshadium approached the back of the Menagerie he had visited with Adolin and Shallan a few days before. 

_Use a spren from the menagerie and your mind to walk the Thought Paths,_ the horse repeated himself with only a little impatience. _Only a little distance, my daughter is not far, but she requires your assistance soon._

"Your daughter? You realize I'm only trained to heal humans, not horses, right? And what are the Thought Paths?"

_I will explain once we are safely away. You need only do as I tell you. A Windrunner is not ideal for this transition, but if you have seen the Shrouded Sun, the Shadesmar, you can do this. I will call the spren to you, but you must speak a Truth to it. A secret of your heart. Then you will open the path._

"He is MINE." Syl snarled, hanging before Gallant's nose in her human form, blade of light raised threateningly. "I won't let you give him to a Cryptic!"

_It will be a one-time transaction, not a bond. It is to protect an innocent life. Are you not pledged to protect the weak, honor-spren?_

"Yes, but... a Cryptic?!" she protested.

_The other options are... less willing to negotiate._

"Should I assume from the name Cryptic they are also less willing to explain themselves, or should I be opening negotiations with them on my own behalf?" Kaladin asked acridly. 

Syl turned into a ribbon of light and wrapped herself around his arm. _Mine!_ her fierce thought cut through his irritation at the conversation; it felt nice to be so unequivocally wanted.

Gallant snorted. _I do not think that will be necessary. We are here._

Sureblood and Gallant stopped before the chicken cage, and something slipped from between the bars. It was a ripple on the ground, a pattern of lines slowly spinning and mutating in a five-fold angular symmetry. It moved across the ground and then lifted, forming a ball of dark lines edged with light so dark a blue it was nearly black.

"Greetings, Wind Runner." It spoke aloud, in the same way that Syl could speak only for his hearing. "Do you have a Truth?"

Kaladin straightened up in the saddle, settling himself according to all the advice Jenet and her grooms had pounded into him in the last few weeks. "A personal truth, right?"

"Yes."

"I am afraid of the choice Moash wants me to make. I am afraid I won't be able to save them both, and I don't know what to do."

"This is true." the floating spren agreed, and wafted higher, spinning outward to engulf Kaladin and both of the Ryshadium.

The shrouded sun glowed above them, a sea of glassy beads below. A path of twisting lines unfurled before them, and the horses shot forward together. _Touch Sureblood, so that we do not lose him._ Gallant sent, and Kaladin moved to obey. They raced over the impossible sea and through a mass of floating lights, never quite touching the surface of the beads, but floating above it, cremlings skittering over glass.

Kaladin could feel Syl wrapped around his mind, a familiar presence in an alien landscape. _You're different here._

_This was my home. I chose to leave it to find you. I am different than I was._

Kaladin didn't have anything to say to that. He focused on the path ahead, but they only galloped for another minute before the path ended, the Cyptic's lines swirling into a cloak with a whirling glyph for a head. "A lie, sir Radiant?"

Kaladin blinked, but didn't argue. It seemed to be what the day was made of. "I'm not at all concerned about what will happen when we get back from this jaunt."

"A good lie." The Cryptic bowed, and the world popped back to normal.

* * *

The first whitespine went down easily: Kaladin's spear sliced into the soft tissue near its bowels and up towards its lungs, Gallant kicked it over as they passed, then Sureblood planted two giant hooves in the gut wound and kicked, cracking ribs and pulping internal organs.

The second heard the death screams of the first and turned to meet their charge.

The spear broke in the first clash.

He lost his grip on Gallant's saddle while trying to throw his side knife moments later.

Firmly on the ground, Kaladin lashed a lancet through the creature's eye and into the brain.

Then he ran for the fallen.

* * *

Kaladin infused Stormlight into the thrumming cut in the Charcoal's neck, pinching the sides of the vein together and sealing the edges with a mental twist. Her body accepted the energy more readily than he expected; the tiny lashings he'd made did not seem to be losing power at the same rate as stones or bridgemen stuck to walls.

_We are meant to help our Knights, not burden them. Our Stormlight efficiency is equal to a knight of the fifth level._ the mare's mental voice was precise despite the situation. _I believe I can control the bleeding now, if you would please return to treating my daughter._

"In a moment." Kaladin said, pulling a thin, sharp blade and tongs from his improved arsenal of tools. "You have a sliver of tusk that needs to come out before it slips that nail's width and gouges into that artery. Where is that water gourd?" he demanded of the air.

Two half-disassembled rockbuds dropped to the stone at his left knee, an anxious looking Gallant pressed his head against Kaladin's shoulder _What else can we do?_ the stallion asked.

Kaladin considered the scene around him. The tan stallion called Windfall was standing guard over the newborn ryshadium, nuzzling reassurance and occasionally breathing stormlight from some of Kaladin's spheres into the fuzzy creature's nose. Sureblood patrolled the perimeter of the stone hollow they occupied, nose flared wide to scent any more predators that might be attracted by the scent of blood. Syl rode atop his head between her own looping sweeps over the landscape of the unclaimed hills. "Gather anything you can find that will burn easily. I don't think we'll need to cauterize anything, but I think I'm going to need a lot of hot water to tackle that gut wound."

_Father, he must tend to my daughter!_ the mare protested, rear legs twitching with the desire to rise.

Kaladin smacked her on the nose. "I stopped the bleeding and checked for broken spines that might shift; she is not in immediate danger. You are. So you will stop complaining and let me work or I will ask Gallant to help hold you down."

_Listen to him, Charcoal. He is a healer._

_He is a Windrunner! He does not have the power of Regrowth._ she objected. _He cannot See what is wrong like a Truthwatcher or Edgedancer. He must tend to my daughter!_

"I was trained by my father, who was trained in the traditions of Kabranth, foremost city of healing in the world." Kaladin bit out as he washed the wound with the rockbud water- he'd used up what remained in his waterskin on the foal's gut wound. "Since I became a soldier I have tended more battle wounds than I can count. I'm no master, and even if I was I couldn't guarantee that Sleepy will live. She has stormlight to keep her stable, so she has a much better chance than most, even without instant healing powers."

_She is hurt! Tend to her!_ Charcoal demanded.

"I will once I'm sure you won't bleed to death. Hold. Still."

She did subside, looking away from where Kaladin worked and toward her offspring. Kaladin tried to push down memories of another parent and child attacked by whitespine, years ago. _This will not end like that did._ he told himself firmly. Roshone and Rillir had gone hunting for the whitespine and found only blood and death. _That was the day I discovered I had the will to kill._ He could almost feel his father's disapproving gaze at the thought. He instead focused on extracting the sliver of tusk embedded in Charcoal's neck, keeping his breath steady.

_Why did you not pursue the healer's path?_

Kaladin did not sigh or snap at her, but dropped the tusk piece on the stone. "I followed my younger brother went he was drafted into the army. I failed him. I was enslaved before my term of enlistment was over and couldn't choose what tasks I was assigned. In the present, my men need me where I am, keeping them safe."

_Why are you not an Edgedancer? I do not understand._

"What is an Edgedancer and why should I be one?" Kaladin asked, threading a length of gut onto a sturdy needle and setting to.

_Radiants who cared for the small and forgotten, as you care for all the bridgemen. Healers trained by Vedeledev, who could use their powers to heal even death itself._

"That sounds useful." he said, glancing over at Syl and Sureblood, who had come over to share some sort of equine reassurances with Sleepy and Windfall. "Do their spren like to play tricks?"

"Hey!" Syl zipped over, all indignation.

_I suppose one cannot help what sort of Spren one attracts._

"I wouldn't give you up for anything, Syl." Kaladin said. He began closing Charcoal's wound with careful stitches. "But I've got a choice to make, don't I?"

"Yes." Syl said.

* * *

Dalinar brought his head up sharply at the messenger's words. "Who?"

"Stormblessed, Brightlord. And your horses."

Dalinar joined Adolin and Renarin at the stable fence just in time to watch the strange procession arrive. Four -four!- Ryshadium paced abreast down the warcamp's road, heads held high despite obvious signs of fatigue. A tall, bloodstained man rode bareback atop the leftmost.

Atop Gallant.

Daliner clamped down on a spike of jealousy and confusion at the sight of another riding -his- Ryshadium. Gallant wasn't a slave or common beast, doing only as ordered- he had a will of his own, and had exercised it. The highprince turned his gaze on the other animals in the line. Sureblood walked in step with another stallion of similar proportions, but with a tan coat shading to dark brown on the legs and nose. Slung between them was a lumpy package wrapped in a blue captain's coat and the remains of several saddlebags. Gallant's saddle was anchoring the sling to the dun's back. The fourth beast walked between the new stallion and Gallant, a black mare with white bandages around her neck and one leg.

"Sir." Captain Kaladin saluted him wearily, then moved to slide off Gallant's back. In the first awkward motion Dalinar had ever seen from him, the dismount turned into a flailing mass of limbs, sweat-stained fingers clutching futilely at Gallant's mane. Renarin was suddenly there to catch his shoulders and ease him to the ground. Dalinar hadn't noticed his younger son moving.

Gallant lowered his head to snort a question in the captain's face, then licked a wet streak from the young man's chin to his hairline. Kaladin blinked, then laughed a hoarse and rusty laugh. Huffing in satisfaction, Gallant gave him a parting lick before walking over to Dalinar.

"Pleased with yourself, aren't you?" he asked, laying a hand on his mount's nose.

Gallant nodded, stepping closer and nosing at Dalinar's shoulder in affection. He lost himself for a moment in the scent of horse and the stallion's bluff regard. A pointless and unfounded worry that the old war horse had found him lacking and chosen a younger rider evaporated.

He came back to reality in time to see Sureblood and the dun stallion kneeling in perfect unison. The coat wrapped bundle moved, and a small tan head poked up and looked around sleepily, ears flicking.

Captain Kaladin stepped over and scratched the foal's nose fondly, his motions and voice were edged with the exaggerated precision of pushing past heavy fatigue. "Yeah sleepy, we've arrived. Time to meet some more two-legged people. So, Kholin Princes, may I present, Sleepy, daughter of Charcoal, who is Gallant's daughter, and Windfall, who has sworn a blood oath of brotherhood with Sureblood over the bodies of their fallen enemies." He motioned at the black mare and the dun stallion with a flourish as he introduced them. "Ryshadium, this is Prince Renarin, he's part of Bridge Four, who you will meet later. That's Sureblood's Adolin, also a prince, and Highprince Dalinar is right over there with Gallant. Be respectful; it's his grass you'll hopefully be eating in the future." 

Introductions finished, he moved to loosen the various restraints keeping the infant Ryshadium immobile. She sucked beseechingly on his arm. "Yes, you can eat at soon as I get you untied. I am still not your mother, she is right over there."

"So I was right about you smelling irresistible, to horses at least." Adolin said, scratching Sureblood's head with one hand and offering the other to Charcoal for sniffing.

Kaladin paused to regard Adolin skeptically. "I smell like dead whitespine, blood, the perforated intestine of Sleepy here, three different kinds of antiseptic, sweat, and horse." he turned back to the over-engineered strap entanglement. "If that's what you consider irresistible, you should see a surgeon. One that is not me. I'm going to beg Jenet to help me get these three settled and then I will sneak in to the officer's bathhouse to have a nice, long, hot bath. I may fall asleep in the tub and drown, I don't know."

All of the Ryshadium snorted or huffed their amusement at that comment, and even Renarin smiled. Windfall pressed his head against the captain's side until he stopped tugging on a stubborn knot and caressed the horse's ears.

"So you are a surgeon." Renarin said, holding out his hands to take the mass of leather that had secured the foal's legs. It was not a piece of tack as Dalinar had assumed, but a satchel of heavy leather covered in the tools of a healer. 

"I never completed my training." Kaladin said, turning resolutely back to his task. He continued in a familiar, self-deprecating tone. "But I do have hands and a standing requisition order at the stable, so when Charcoal needed help with the delivery, Gallant chose to requisition me rather than one of the camp surgeons. Which was lucky for everyone, because we arrived right after Sleepy and a pair of whitespines."

"Whitespines?" Dalinar chorused with his sons and stable master Jenet, who had just arrived in a damp huff.

"Two juveniles, probably siblings. They attacked in a two stage ambush: the first to distract Windfall, the second to attack Charcoal and Sleepy, who was still in her placental sack at the time, from downwind. We arrived and managed to win before anyone died of blood loss, but patching everyone up afterward took hours." He lifted the foal from the sling with great care, revealing a mass of bandages wrapped around her flanks and a splint on one rear leg. "Like I said, perforated intestine, and I discovered that even very small horses have more intestine than any mere human. Fortunately, Ryshadium can use Stormlight to stabilize and speed healing, so she should be able to walk on her own soon." He addressed the squirming filly in his arms, straightening his spine with obvious effort. "But not today. I am not letting you put weight on it, so quit thrashing." Sleepy somehow managed to look contrite as she leaned toward her mother, eager to nurse. 

“Stormlight healing?” Dalinar asked.

“The Radiants used Stormlight for fixing everything- shardplate, ryshadium, darkness, the tedium of long distance travel, arrows.... everything.” Kaladin mumbled.

“Give me the horse, you’re addled.” Adolin said, moving from Sureblood's head to take the foal, and Kaladin let him, careful and slow. 

Dalinar decided he would inquire further after the captain had a chance to rest.

Jenet offered her hand to Charcoal, an uncommon softness in her eyes as she looked toward Sleepy. Renarin had slung the surgeon's bag over his own shoulder and moved to remove the sling from the kneeling stallions.

Captain Kaladin reluctantly stepped out of their way and toward Dalinar and Gallant, running his hand down Charcoal's flank as he moved past her. His brow wrinkled in clear anxiety as he lifted his gaze to Dalinar's, but his salute was a crisp motion of hand to chest. "Sir, I apologize for my absence and the ruckus the Ryshadium caused in the market. I will pay for any damages."

"No need." Dalinar said, "There were none. At ease, soldier. You shouldn't worry, it's clear you had a good reason to go, and your men performed well in your absence."

"Yes sir." He nodded, but the tension didn't leave his frame. "What is the procedure for requesting stable space? I seem to have been adopted by a pair of rogue ryshadium and their offspring."

Dalinar blinked, but wasn't really surprised. "You were chosen?"

Kaladin shook his head, "I'm just a pair of hands. They'll find better partners soon enough."

Gallant snorted, shoving Kaladin back a step with his nose. He fell against Windfall's shoulder. The dun stallion nickered and wuffed at the captain's hair with a proprietary air.

Dalinar laughed, clapping him on the shoulder "Son, you've been chosen. I'll have Adolin teach you combat riding."

Kaladin leaned against his new horse's shoulder and groaned.


	2. Outtake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A alternate POV for the last scene. In the fic this scene is from Dalinar’s point of view, and he misses this interaction entirely. But it wouldn’t leave me alone, so I wrote it out.

“Sir.” Kaladin saluted Dalinar, refusing to dwell on the highprince’s refusal to meet his gaze. He moved to dismount but caught one foot on Gallant’s rump and missed the ground with the other, slipping headfirst for the rocky ground. He grasped for the mane but it slid through his tired fingers, training made him curl his back to protect his head and neck in anticipation of the impact, but a pair of warm hands grasped his shoulders from behind and pulled sideways. He fell on top of Renarin, but it was a more controlled descent: they both ended up on the ground, Kaladin sprawled across the younger Kholin’s lap and chest like a fainting lady.

“Thank you.” Kaladin blinked, trying to regain his balance and sit up before the situation could get any more embarrassing, but his head felt heavy. 

“Captain.” Renarin didn’t move to push him off, but shifted around to his left and lifted a hand in front of Kaladin’s chin. Three sapphire marks glowed in his cupped hand, the light hidden from anyone else watching. “Light, sir?” he whispered, his gaze questioning. 

Kaladin froze, staring into Renarin’s guileless blue* eyes. _Did someone in Bridge Four tell him, or did he figure it out on his own? Does he know, or just suspect? Has he told anyone else?_ The thoughts bubbled up, but the eyes on his were not demanding, only curious. 

Renarin was never demanding or anything but eager and respectful; he defied everything Kaladin had learned to expect from men of his rank. _If any lighteyes could fit in here, he could._ His own words to Moash, and he’d been proven mostly right. Bridge Four had taken the Prince in and tried to teach him the soldier’s life. They were only moderately good at it, since Bridge Four would never be a typical military formation. How could they be, after what they’d seen? 

Kaladin remembered Sigzil’s words from weeks ago: _Don’t you think we deserve to know?_

The light danced in the prince’s hand, shaking so minutely that few would have noticed. _He is Bridge Four now._

Kaladin breathed in the Stormlight. Energy returned to tired muscles and alertness to his mind. It wasn’t enough to make him glow visibly unless one looked closely, but it would give him the strength to see this misadventure through. 

Renarin’s eyes widened, but he didn’t manage to say anything before Gallant stuck his big black muzzle down to snort in derision, then slather Kaladin’s face with his disgusting horse slobber. 

It startled a laugh out of both of them, and a tiny, shared smile. 

_Later. We’ll talk later._ Kaladin thought as he prepared to deal with Adolin, who was approaching with a water skin and a smirk. _One thing at a time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I can’t remember if Renarin’s eye color is ever mentioned, so I gave him the same blue eyes as Adolin.


End file.
